#welcome to windhelm

[thegleampt2fromtheglowpt22001]

one reason the Stormcloak/Imperial conflict in Skyrim is funny (something all lot ov ppl with any analytical skills have commented on) is how when u enter Solitude u see a scene ov a guy getting executed for helping thee guy who killed the king despite his insistence that it was in accordance with thee culture's traditional duals - interesting conflict between Imperial hegemony and local tradition - and then u go 2 Windhelm and thee equivalent sequence is Hey Bro Welcome To Hate Crime City

[cozydragonart]

Statue of Azura, located in Northeast Skyrim between Winterhold and Windhelm. She is the daedric prince of Dawn and Dusk. She welcomes travelers from Morrowind, visible for a long way atop her mountain. Watercolor 10x14 *** This is the last painting of my Skyrim series for right now. I want to make a lil zine of all of these, written like a travel journal. I'll probably make a few supplemental paintings here and there. I've never done an art project this big before, so I'm happy I was able to finish all 18 paintings!

[coffee-at-daybreak]

precautionary | teldryn sero x reader

a/n: writing about this damn elf is my savior sometimes. if i'm sad or stressed i just crank out silly lil scenarios about him and i'm instantly giggling and kicking my feet. here's some protective/jealous pre-bf tel content teehee

“I hate this place.”

“I know. You only remind me everytime we come here.”

“And yet, here we are again.”

You shake your head - partly in response to Teldryn’s snarky comment, and partly to get rid of the snowflakes still caught in your hair. It seems everytime you come to Windhelm, it’s blasting you with cold breezes and a harsh snowfall. As if the city’s residents aren’t welcoming enough.

Hence why you led Teldryn on a brisk beeline straight for the New Gnesis Cornerclub. The air is cozy and quiet, a soothing contrast to the city outside. The Dunmer here may not be much friendlier, but at least they aren’t outright hateful like the Nords that pester you at the entrance gates.

“Cut it out,” you say to your companion. “I told you, it’s only one night. I’ll deliver the parcel to the court wizard first thing in the morning, then we’ll leave.”

“We’d better.” Teldryn crosses his arms, rubbing them briefly in an effort to warm himself up even faster. “Otherwise I might end up in jail for something unpleasant.”

You roll your eyes. You’ve traveled with Teldryn long enough to know he’s being dramatic about it. But you also know his displeasure is justified. This city is one of the last places you’d bring a Dunmer - especially one who has lived in the Gray Quarter and has spoken about how awful it was.

“You’re just extra grouchy because you’re hungry,” you say, trying to lighten your tone with a joke.

His helmet conceals his expression but you can almost feel the unamused glare he’s certainly giving you right now.

You grin and pat his arm. “How about you grab us a table, and I’ll grab us some food and drinks. I’ll ask the owner if he’s got any rooms left we can rent.”

Teldryn sighs, his body physically deflating a tad. “Fine.”

He takes to one corner of the room while you head for the counter. The cornerclub is quiet, only a handful of Dunmer occupying some of the tables. You reach the counter and the tavern owner looks up from cleaning some glasses.

“Good evening. What’s on the menu?” You ask.

“Not much left. Just some ash yam stew and flin.”

“That’ll work. Two of each, please.” You slide over the coin. He eagerly takes it, red eyes bright as he nods at you.

“Thank you. I’ll be right back with those.” He steps away from the counter to prepare the meals.

You fold your arms and lean against the counter. Your body aches with exhaustion, days of traveling in the bitter cold having worn down your muscles and bones. You really hope there are some rooms available- you could use a break from sleeping on a bedroll.

“‘Scuse me.”

You look up, startled by the sudden voice. It’s not the tavern owner, though. You see an unfamiliar Dunmer smiling down at you, his own elbow leaning casually onto the same counter.

“Never seen you ‘round here before,” he drawls in a deep voice. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here so late?”

You merely blink back at him, caught off guard. You’ve never seen him before, either. He must be one of the Gray Quarter’s residents. His clothes are barely more than rags, and he reeks of drink and smoke. Something about him makes your hackles raise.

You shrug. “Just passing through for the night.”

“Is that so?” The Dunmer’s smile turns to a catlike grin. “I can make it a fun night, if you’d like some company.”

His heavyset eyes rake up and down your body, which immediately wants to shudder in response. Instead, you tense and tilt your chin up.

“No, thank you. I’m just-”

“I got a nice place I can take ya to,” he interrupts. His words are dragging, slurred from his drinking, no doubt. “I’ll show you a good time, swear.”

He suddenly leans in, and you immediately step back. Your heartbeat jumps to a quicker pace.

“Tell me your name, sweetheart,” The Dunmer continues.

You shake your head, retreating even farther from him. To your horror, he keeps inching closer.

“Aw, c’mon now. I only wanna-” His hand reaches for your hair.

You’re already prepared to back away, but before you can do so, there’s a burst of something hot and bright flying right by you. Next thing you know, the Dunmer is stumbling back and crying out, his hand covered in flames. He flails it around desperately until the fire dissipates into the air around him. The other occupants of the tavern all look over in alarm.

You’re so shocked that you jump in surprise when you feel someone else come up next to you. But this presence is all too familiar.

“You’d be wise to back off, s’wit,” Teldryn growls at the Dunmer. He steps in front of you, blocking you from the stranger’s view. He still has a palm open with a fire spell at the ready, and his other hand is poised on the sword at his belt.

You can barely see over Teldryn’s shoulder, but you do manage to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face. His eyes are wide, sobered up by pain and fear, as he gawks at your companion.

Teldryn merely jerks his head in a “move along” motion. And sure enough, the drunk scurries away, stumbling his way to the corner of the tavern.

You let out a long exhale, the tension finally leaving your body. Teldryn turns around and looks you up and down, but unlike the stranger, you know he’s doing it out of concern.

“You alright?” He asks.

You cross your arms. “That was a bit much, don’t you think?”

He lets go of his magic with a flex of his hand and places it on his hip instead. “That’s not a thank-you. You should work on that, sera.”

You roll your eyes, but there is an urge to smile somewhere in there. You must admit, you are relieved- and amused.

“Or don’t thank me and just give me a pay bonus instead,” Teldryn adds.

You laugh, and though you almost miss it, you notice he relaxes a little more at the sound. He leans up on the counter alongside you.

“I suppose you’ve earned both, dear hero,” you joke.

The tavern keeper comes back with your trays of food and drink, his eyes darting around. “Everything alright out here?” He asks.

“Just grand,” Teldryn answers immediately, taking the trays and sliding one to you. He then asks the owner, “You happen to have any rooms open?”

“Two, actually. I can get you each-”

“No, just one will do,” Teldryn says curtly, handing over the coin. The tavern keeper’s eyes go even brighter as he takes it.

“You got it. I’ll go make sure it’s prepped for you two. Thank you.” Then he’s off again.

Your eyes jump over to Teldryn, but he’s busy peeling some of his cowl and downing his bottle of flin. There’s a light warmth flushing in your cheeks. This is the first time he’s gotten just one room for the two of you, and maybe you’re foolish for reading too much into it, but the thought makes your pulse quicken.

“What was that? He had two rooms available,” you ask him.

He lowers the bottle and sighs. “Don’t care. We don’t need to spend that much coin. And I don’t like the idea of you being in a room by yourself when there’s certain n’wahs here.” His hand clenches around his bottle.

You blink, surprised. Pleasantly so. This level of care from him is… new, but welcome.

“I can handle myself,” you remind him.

“Believe me - I know.” Teldryn stirs at his stew, but he casts you a quick side glance. “This is for my own reassurance.”

He looks back down, meaning he doesn’t catch that little smile on your lips. You start to stir at your own bowl, the delicious smell wafting towards your nose.

“Don’t worry - I’ll take the floor,” Teldryn says.

You turn and shoot a fast “no!” in reply - a little too fast.

He looks back at you, and that little sliver of skin visible beneath his cowl reveals a handsome grin. “Oh? Does that mean you want to share a bed with me?”

“Wha- no! I mean, that’s not what I-” you start to sputter, and the blush is spreading to your whole face now.

Teldryn laughs, his shoulder bumping yours. “Relax, serjo. You are far too easy to mess with. Now eat up.”

You turn back to your food, trying to focus on that instead of your racing heart and mind. The tavern keeper comes back to let you both know the room’s ready, but you take your time finishing your meals and enjoying the calming atmosphere.

At one point, though, your skin prickles with uneasiness. You dare to toss a glance over your shoulder. Just as you suspected, that Dunmer drunk is still staring at you from where he’s hunched up in the corner. His hateful eyes flick between you both, but seem to linger on you. Your body stiffens up.

“What?” Teldryn notices.

You turn back ahead. “N-nothing. Our friend is still pissed, is all.”

Teldryn looks over his shoulder as well. He lets out a gruff scoff. “Should he try anything, I’ll flay him alive. And just as a precaution-”

Then suddenly his arm is coming around you, wrapping loosely around your waist. You jump a little, but not out of fear like you felt earlier. No, Teldryn is comfortable and familiar- and damn it, is his touch thrilling.

“You’re safe with me,” he assures you with surprising gentleness.

You don’t hesitate to lean into him and the faint warmth of his body. “I know. Thank you.”

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hi everyone it's another Wednesday <3 I was tagged by the wonderful @ladytanithia @changelingsandothernonsense @lillxart @theoneandonlysemla

Tagging: @captain-of-silvenar @pocket-vvardvark @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater

@umbracirrus @firefly-factory @thequeenofthewinter @lucien-lachance @sanza-17 @hircines-hunter @scholarlyhermit @sulphuricgrin

Was hoping to post some more Vevora/Aicanatr stuff but unfortunately it just ain't working rn but! I was able to get some writing done on a wip that's been sitting around since November. Below is some of my Theomar love confession rewrite <3 Man down so bad he volunteered to go to Windhelm post-Civil War as an excuse to see her <3 <3 <3 Under cut for length, one slightly horny line, and she takes that mer drinking at the Cornerclub :P

There could not be a worse time for him to fall for her, become so entangled in wanting her that it made him desire to abandon his post. But if that were a doable feat, then the standards that made him feel that way would not be as strict as they are. Their deeply grim reality did not stop the love, admitting it to himself had been like a dam bursting; the drops of sustaining professional praise could not compete with the rapids of intimacy. Her hands on his face, letting him lie on her breasts and listen to the calming sound of her heartbeat, how her legs would pull him in closer until he was- Enough. There he went getting too far ahead and wrapped up in her yet again. The sigh heard from him sounds more of a stifled groan to which he gets a confused, yet intrigued look from the Imperial woman. He provides a quick cover up. 

“My apologies, it would seem I let myself get distracted by you again.” 

“Why Commander, you really must get better about that.” No. He had no intention of pushing her from his mind, it had already proven to be a losing battle. He prayed to be freed of her to now welcome the torment, retreating further into her. If had any power in the situation, he would absolutely not be in Windhelm right now, planning how to tell this Imperial soldier that he loved her. “I wouldn’t want you losing sight of things.”

“Oh, I think you would like it very much.” Finally, he remembers her question. “And yes, I did come all this way to see you. You ran through my mind constantly these past months, how could I not take advantage of the opportunity?” 

“I’ve missed you as well.” Controlling the elation he feels is difficult, uptick in his voice.  

“Is that so?”

“I did think about you on occasion.” When? Despite desperately wanting to know, he refrains, content to know she has noticed his absence. “It has been a few months, it is good to see you. Despite the circumstances…” Her words trail off a bit towards the end, the similar look from before only now she does see him. Staring up at him, her left eye twitched as though she would begin crying again.  

“You wouldn’t want to join me somewhere, would you?” Please he thinks. Please let me steal you from them, just a moment Theodora. Tapping her finger to her chin, she smirks at him. 

“Hmmm, I will but only if you join me somewhere first?” Oh What did she have in mind? He assumed she knew the city better than him, maybe there was somewhere else they could go…

“Tell me what do you have in mind?”

“Well, after the day I’ve had, I need a drink.” A quick glance at their surroundings before she taps his chest. “And I imagine you could use one as well.” 

“It would not hurt.” Anything you would like. That is what he wishes to say. Have his only concern making her happy and if there would be something other than mead available. But he has far more worries than that. 

“I cannot imagine the tavern will be a safe place for us.”

“No it would not be.” Confusing the Thalmor, she laughs. “Do you think so lowly of me to think I’d go there?”

“Where do you drink then, Theodora?” 

Regret is not what he feels, sitting at a table that is continuously blasted with cold air as the patrons of this Cornerclub, as it were, shuffle in and out. Offhandedly he wonders if they were passing by him purposely, seeking out more chances to lour at him in the way only Dunmer could. The scowls form the Nords, the shifted glances half outside his vision, those were all too easy to interpret: Damn elf. Uninspired. But the Dunmer, oh the Dunmer could hate with such sincerity that as the few who uttered something in addition to their glares, they did not need to say it in the common tongue. The Dunmeris meaning of the word unknown, their tone alone conveys the intent of an insult. It’s not important for him to know exactly how he is being insulted, though he could harbour a guess or two, simply saying it for their own satisfaction. It was somewhat impressive, in a peculiar way, but nonetheless, Ondolemar is slightly impressed. Perhaps he was just glad to be in the company of mer, regardless of what type of mer they are. Yet what does rouse further intrigue in him, however, is the decidedly lack of similar treatment Theodora receives. 

Ordering in their language and going relatively unnoticed as she returns to him, two strange jars that resemble nothing he had seen before, he comments on it. Not completely surprised as why would she frequent an establishment she was not welcomed in, this is still strangely welcoming. 

“You’re well liked here.” The woman places one jar in from of him before chuckling at his notion. Lovely to hear her laugh again after the pain that marked her face when they first spoke. 

“I wouldn't go that far, Commander.”

“You wouldn’t?” 

“I wouldn’t.” She opens the jar and takes a mouthful. “But speaking Dunmeris, having lived in Morrowind even if only for a few months, it does help. Still an Imperial bastard but I don’t have to pretend to be interested in mead and a poor rendition of the Dragonborn Comes at Candlehearth Hall.” Cyrodiil natives prided themselves on being cosmopolitan but Theodora was a true example of that. 

“Clearly you get along with many different kinds of people.”

“Clearly.” She rolls her eyes. He himself is the most damning evidence after all, but it is humorous her assessment of her person. 

“Well, I suppose Imperial bastard is correct in the most literal sense.”

“I prefer the term love child I’ll have you know.”

"Equally true, from what you have told me." He takes the lid off the concoction in front of him. “What would I be?”

“I suppose you could go ask, I bet Ambarys would be willing to tell you to your face.” Directing his attention to the barkeep with her eyes, the Altmer instead chooses to remain with the reason he’s here at all. Less interested in what he thought of her choice in company and more in enjoying what he came all this way for; her. 

“I believe my imagination will suffice.”

[truth-01001001-liar]

WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by @labskeever @sulphuricgrin @moriche and @devilrose thank youuuu :)

No pressure tags: @labskeever @sulphuricgrin @changelingsandothernonsense @cheeseandstrawberrytartlover @moriche @caliblorn and anyone else who’d like to participate!

First off I have some art wips of Wraith, but also a little snippet of a writing wip >:)

—-

From the opening scene of skyrim.The fic doesn’t have a name yet *shrugs*. it might be terrible I don’t have a good gage of good and bad writing. you’ve been forewarned. 👍

“Wait, are you running from it? You- the Bear of Markarth? The Jarl of Windhelm? The man who murdered Torygg and started the civil war? I didn’t think you’d be afraid of anything,” Viir spoke cheerily, as Ralof helped her to her feet, “I heard somewhere that you shouted the High King to death. Shouted. Like dragons do. Can’t you just go have a chat with our new scaly friend out there?” Viir’s wry smile widened when she knew she’d said enough to provoke a response.

“Are you calling me a coward? Let me tell you something, woman. It isn’t bravery, but foolishness that causes a man to run into a battle he knows he won’t win. I can hear the legion out there right now, struggling. I’m no fool. You’re welcome to sprint to your death, but I won’t lead my soldiers to a slaughter.”

Viir began to open her mouth, but Ralof yanked her hurriedly up the steps before more words could escape.

“Up through the tower, let’s go.” He said, toting her along behind him.“What’s wrong with you? Now’s not the time for picking fights, kinsman. Also I thought I heard those damned elves say you were a mage that was good with words or something. I don’t know why, but for some reason I expected you to.. to .. well I expected you to-”

“Not be an ass?” She said, cutting him off.

“Yes!”

“Please Ralof. The only reason the thalmor were so worried about keeping my mouth shut was because the only spell I can cast without my hands is a frenzy spell. I’ve used that spell in the middle of a city before, and they were just worried I’d do it again. It’s how I got in trouble with them in the first place,” Viir bragged, giving Ralof an over the shoulder smirk. He let out a long, exasperated sigh as they walked up the steps. At his annoyance her smile grew even wider.

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

Ulfric slowly loses Eryn's respect over time but one incident really cements it.

During the war, there's imperial assassins who come after Eryn. To keep his best asset beloved soldier safe, Ulfric orders her to stay in Windhelm for a bit.

Literally everyone protests this, but Ulfric DOES outrank all of them, so... guess she's to stay put. Eryn HAAAATES this.

Well, while she's in the city, there's yet another murder. And this time, it's one of Eryn's friends, Susanna. The guards tell her to stay back, don't get involved, they're busy enough, and they sarcastically tell her if SHE can solve it she's welcome to.

Eryn goes to Jorleif, who admits that the guards all prioritize the war and don't listen to him. And of course she's upset that no one seems to care about this, and she desperately needs something to do.

Eryn goes through the normal questline, following her hunches and instincts. She notices instantly that it's like some sort of ritualistic killing, based on where the killings are. When she investigates Hjerm, she finds the murder scene (and the amulet).

She brings the info to Jorleif as she goes, who is genuinely grateful for her help. He didn't not care, but he couldn't get the guards to care. He recommends she ask Calixto, since he seems to love weird bullshit.

Calixto instantly sets off Eryn's alarm bells. Something about him just strikes her weird. Especially since he keeps trying to insist that she sells him that necklace. Which she doesn't do, because it's part of an active investigation. And he's being WEIRD.

But she does listen to him that Wuunferth is knowledgeable about things like necromancy. So she goes to talk to Wuunferth.

He, of course, informs her that no he doesn't do necromancy, he has the nickname "The Unliving" bc he's stupid old. But Eryn explains that she wasn't accusing him, she doesn't care about what college he went to, and she just wants information.

Wuunferth softens, and they compare notes. He's also quite surprised when she uses magic as a way to visually illustrate her points. She always forgets that people don't seem to think magic and swords can coexist.

So, they realize the pattern, the way these murders are happening, and where the murderer is going to strike next. They agree to set a trap. Eryn would make great bait, but everyone knows who she is and that she's dangerous.

So, the night of the next murder, she stays hidden with some illusion magic from Wuunferth... And a man jumps out at Arivanya. Eryn saves her and knocks down the murderer. It's revealed to be Calixto, of course. But when he tries to jump at Eryn after feigning a surrender, she just fireballs him in the face.

The city thanks her, sincerely. She's avenged the murdered women, and managed to solve a serial killer case.

Wuunferth, especially, thanks her. He didn't know people suspected him, and he's glad Eryn had the sense to come talk to him before accusing him.

As a thank you, he enchants her rapier for her, free of charge. He gives it enchantments he thinks fit her: Fire damage, like her favorite spells, and a health absorbing property, so she'll always have a chance as long as she can swing a sword.

She thanks him and picks up her sword, which she names Redwing after its new red glow. But it's all bothering her. Something about this just felt off.

She looks to where Ulfric is sitting, and makes a face. She doesn't get why she feels so... angry, almost. Angry at him.

Wuunferth says that happens to everyone around Ulfric, eventually. He says things that people believe in, he fights a cause worth fighting, so people like him at first. But sooner or later, everyone gets tired of him.

Eryn realizes it's because he didn't care about his city, or the fact that people were dying. He didn't care. At all. Jorleif tells her that's just normal for Windhelm, hence why he was trying to put the investigation together.

Eryn still doesn't seem to quite get it. She feels upset with herself for being upset. That's the man she's fighting a war for, right? So why does she suddenly dislike him so much?

Wuunferth and Jorleif gently explain it to her.

Ulfric is selfish and short sighted.

Eryn is not.

That's why she doesn't like him.

[yewphoric]

Welcome back OC I haven't touched in literal years but still have in my head!!

This is Eriod (they/them). Their life sucks for like 100 years. That's just how it is when you're too poor to afford any of the expensive cures for vampirism and you hate being a vampire.

Some more rambling under the cut for those that are interested! (TW for a mention of attempted suicide!)

So Eriod is half-Nord, half-Dunmer, from Eastmarch. Their Nord father ended up raising them despite protests from his extended (racist) family (that he cuts off after they voice their 'concerns'). Their mother wasn't in the picture because she sucked. She dumped the baby on the dad and ran off to Blacklight.

Their upbringing was rather humble, living on a small bee farm near Kynesgrove. They took over the farm when their father died, when they were 25. Then, at 31, they were attacked by a feral vampire while making a trip to Windhelm for supplies.

They didn't die, and they knew they only had a few days to buy a cure before they turned. Unfortunately, potions to cure such an aggressive disease are quite expensive, and they couldn't get the funds in time.

The transformation was painful and devastating. They had no plans to live as a monster, and soon after the point of no return, made an attempt on their life.

Luckily for them, a traveling priest of Mara found them and nursed them back to health, despite knowing what they were. That act of kindness moved Eriod deeply, and they swore they'd use their extended life to do as much good as they could, despite their suffering.

They spent a few years at the College of Winterhold to train in Restoration magic, but their education was cut short by a series of murders that were pinned on them. Despite being innocent, they had to flee and go into hiding for several decades.

They spent a long time traveling and working menial jobs, such as being a farmhand, miner, etc. Eventually, they would encounter a strange artifact that spoke to them when they touched it. A voice claiming to be the daedric prince Meridia spoke to them and promised fortune and a cure if they destroyed the undead that tainted her temple.

And that they did. And as promised, Meridia made Eriod her champion. She cured their vampirism and bestowed Dawnbreaker upon them. From then on, they lived their newfound life in her name.

Later, they would encounter a priest of Mara in need of help in Dawnstar. Having a fondness for priests of Mara after the kindness the one showed them nearly 100 years ago, they agreed to help him solve Dawnstar's nightmare problem.

After that, the two became close friends and eventually lovers.

I have nothing else to say. That's all I got so far. But uh. I love them. Holds them out to you. Squeezes them so hard like a python.

[mindyspirits]

WIP Wednesday 💗

This is my first ever WIP Wednesday!!

I was tagged by the lovely @aureli-us <3

This is a blurb from the upcoming arc in Odette and Miraaks story, after I rewrite the first edition lol. Their staying the night in Ivarstead before making their way to Windhelm, also, a line in here might give context to what the next addition to their story will look like. Truth be told, I might change the status of their relationship at this point when I rewrite, because who doesn't love an agonizingly timed slow burn? Enjoy! 🫶

Anyone else that wants to participate I highly encourage it!!

As they approached the inn, the warmth of the hearthfire spilled out, chasing away the evening chill. Stepping inside, Odette felt the heat embrace her, a welcome contrast to the biting air. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted meats, ale, and woodsmoke. She made her way to the counter, where the innkeeper, Wilhelm, a wizened Nord with a perpetually tired smile, was wiping down the wood.

"Hey Wilhelm!" she called out, her voice cheerful.

He looked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Odette! What brings you here so late? Returning from High Hrothgar like usual?"

"No, not this time," she replied, waving a hand dismissively. "We just left Riften and need a place to stay before traveling to Windhelm."

He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting past her, to Miraak who loomed behind her, his presence a silent force. "Well, we've got some rooms available. I assume you want two, for you and your friend?"

Odette's cheeks flushed slightly, a delicate pink that contrasted with her raven hair. "Ah, no… one room is fine."

A wicked smirk played across Miraak's lips, a flicker of pride igniting in his eyes. Wilhelm's own face registered a brief, almost comical, moment of shock before he cleared his throat.

"Well… alright then. The one on the left."

Odette handed over the gold, her fingers brushing against Wilhelm's calloused hand. She also ordered dinner, knowing that both of them would be famished. When they reached the room, she turned to Miraak, who was staring at the bed, a curious look on his face.

The room was simple, with a single bed, a small table, and a single wardrobe pushed against the wall. Odette began to remove the pieces of her armor, the clink of steel buckles echoing in the small space. She placed the pieces on the table, along with her pack, and sighed in content.

"I know it's not the comfy, large bed you were imagining back at Lakeview, but I have a feeling we won't be home for a while. At least it's better than sleeping outdoors, which is a possibility on our way to Dimhollow."

He hummed, his gaze following her as she closed the distance. His hands found her waist, settling there, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "I do not mind, so long as I have you."

[wellthebardsdead]

*the scarab prince & the runaway dragon, pt 12, part 11 here*

———

Vivienne: *yawns softly and opens his eyes to see Sterens tired face staring off at something in the distance, the sound of waves drifting through his ears along with the idle chatter of men around them working* your highness?

Steren: *not looking at him, voice monotonous and distracted, mournful almost* you don’t… have to call me that…

Vivienne: *rubs his eyes as he turns his gaze to see what he’s looking at, the vague outline of red mountain vanishing into the distance as the ship sails away, Steren having kept his promise to watch him as he slept, going so far as to carry him aboard without waking him also* is everything okay?

Steren: it’s all just, hitting me now… *gently shifts him in his arms* seeing my home, the only place I’ve ever known vanishing from my sight… I’m heartbroken by its distance…

Vivienne: *tilts his head, not understanding why he’s so upset over it, having never really had a home or anything to leave behind to begin with like he has.* hey… *reaches up, nervously touching his face and holding his cheek to meet his gaze* it’s okay… it’ll still be there… when you’re ready to go back…

Steren: … *smiles and gently holds his hand to his cheek, his thumb stroking Vivienne’s soft skin and being a little surprised by the callouses dappling his fingers as he does so* I’ll need to find you a home first before I think about returning to mine.

Teldryn Sero: *suddenly leans against the railing beside them, holding up a scarf that got caught on the docks as they left* you’re lucky no one saw you fleeing the island. Especially whilst carrying a vivec lookalike.

Steren: what- *looks at the scarf then down at Vivienne, finally realising he can see his face, which means so can their new companion* w-we can explain I swear it!!

Vivienne: *giggles* steren, he’s already seen me.

Steren: I- when?!

Teldryn Sero: last night when you both walked out of the corner club in a trance. You’re lucky again that it was only me who saw you. *hands Vivienne the scarf* and now that we’re off the island. I think you need a proper rest, your highness. You both do.

Steren: y-yes… *sighs* I’ll need to be a lot more aware so this won’t happen again… thank you, Sero.

Teldryn Sero: *nods* I’ll be keeping watch.

Steren: *nods and carries Vivienne below deck, halting in perplexed silence as he sees their accomodation is nothing but a few net hammocks and a small room* …where’s the bed?

Vivienne: …I?… *points at a hammock* those are the beds.

Steren: …How?

*several days later*

Teldryn Sero: welcome to Windhelm, your grace. Keep your head down, your hood up, and stick close to me. The ‘grey’ quarter is through those doors.

Steren: *shivering as he hugs his cloak tight, the fabric better suited for the cold nights out in the wastes of morrowinds ashen deserts than the chill of Skyrim* you said it was miserable here but- this is far beyond what I could have imagined… *follows him off the ship*

Teldryn Sero: miserable is one word for it. Depressing is more like, and the people here are colder than the weather. We’ll look at getting you something more suitable for the cold.

Vivienne: *looks at Steren before quietly removing his coat, his body covered enough with the robes and bandages beneath to conceal his identity* here… *drapes it around his shoulders*

Steren: I- Vivi no. *stops in his tracks and fusses over the smaller elf, trying to give it back* I’m alright, he- *shuts up as a snowball slaps Vivienne across the head, the clattering of rock against stone echoing in the narrow street making it clear it wasn’t just slush that made impact* v-vivi! Who- *turns to see a drunk and belligerent Nord stumbling about towards them*

Vivienne: *rubs his head in stunned silence for a moment, the fabric of his hood enough to only allow mild bruising from the impact* why’d he do that-

Rolff Stonefist: Fffuck off back to morrowind grey skinss! The last thing skyrim needs is more of your filth! *rears back and throws his bottle, thankfully missing and failing to even shatter it as it clatters away past Sterens feet*

Vivienne: grey skins?… *blinks and reaches for steren as he starts stalking towards the nord* s-steren?

Steren: *reaching for his blade* You vile drunken pig I’ll- Sero!!

Teldryn Sero: *grabs him a little more roughly than intended, dragging him back and grabbing Vivienne too, ushering them away to the corner club* It’s not worth it your highness, you’ll only end up in a prison cell your parents won’t be able to save you from.

Steren: He assaulted Vivienne! He called us grey skins! The guards should-

Teldryn Sero: the guards won’t care and they’ve been known to do the same to our kind and even worse. Now move…

Vivienne: *grasps sterens sleeve* it’s, okay… I’m okay. *looks up at him with a sad smile behind his eyes as they peer from beneath his hood*

Steren: *anger quelled slightly just by his voice and eyes alone, wishing so badly to see his face completely and be enveloped by the warmth it brings him, rather than the rage consuming him* … *sighs and takes his hand* Alright…

*meanwhile*

Voryn: *staring at the structure slowly being built by the citizens of Ravenrock, all of them in a trance* how long have they been here, Captain?

Captain Veleth: some as recently as last night, your grace. Others have been here so long they’ve either come out of the trance by collapsing from exhaustion or just… simply dying…

Voryn: I see… *sighs and closes both his eyes, before opening his third, sensing the magic radiating from the stone and hearing the chant* hm… dragon tongue?… command, command what?… these people?… dragons?…

“The world.”

Voryn: *opens his eyes and shudders feeling slimy black tendrils caressing his neck, a realm of vulgar greens and inky blacks surrounding him as he stands upon a platform of stolen knowledge and unfathomable amounts of pornography* Mora… This magic is not of your doing then?…

Hermaeus Mora: it is not. No, it is that of my champion, whom has now chosen to betray me.

Voryn: I see. So then I’ll have no trouble interrupting their plans then?

Hermaeus Mora: *was about to go on an extremely long winded pitch to try and persuade him into giving him knowledge he’d obtained as dagoth ur in exchange for his help* What-

Voryn: *forces himself out of the daedras realm and back into his own body, inhaling deeply as he opens his eyes completely* hm…

Captain Veleth: your grace?

Voryn: stand back. I’ll sort this out… *steps forward and walks to the stone, his hand smoothing over the obelisk and feeling the pull of miraaks power tugging at his mind* the chosen of a god… *smiles as his own power pulls back, forcing miraaks hold to release* verses an actual, god… *floods his power into the stone, sealing it back as the dream of the first Dragonborn is replaced in the minds of his thralls with that of his own, the red of his eye open wide flashing before each and every one of them touched by miraaks chant, forcing them all to finally awaken* … *looks around him as the enthralled miners and civilians drop like flies, exhausted and bewildered, but free, for now* captain, can you and your men get these people back to their homes?

Captain Veleth: *utterly amazed* I. Yes, yes your grace I can… *bows to him and whistles for his men to come aid him*

Voryn: *smiles and walks past them back to the settlement, eyes landing on Nerevar outside the councillors estate witnessing the second councillor in a state of panic as he recounts the missing prince’s disappearance from the island* … *looks back out over the sea, and holds his hand to his heart as he feels sterens flood with warmth, a sign he’s safe, with Vivienne* my little star… *blinks seeing a shape emerging from the water, a certain councillor of house dres, sopping wet and utterly fuming after ‘accidentally’ being thrown over board by voryn ‘bumping’ into him* Tsk…

Sen Dres: *rises to his feet as he crawls from the water, red eyes filled with malice as they spot voryn smiling at him* You. YOU SON OF A- *shrieks as a large tendril shoots from the water, grabbing him and flinging him back into the sea as a lurker charges from the ashen depths and towards the guards*

Voryn: Oh- oh shit- NEREVAR!! HELP!!

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

get 🫵 asked ‼️

2, 23, 25 for jia

H for jiraak

and 🤝 for you >:3

HELLO BELOVED‼️ I'M MOST VERILY GETTING ASKED, THANK YOU SO MUCH! 🥰💖

2. First time meeting their best friend

answered here!

23. First display of their powers or abilities

answered here!

25. First major success in their story

Oh, definitely killing Alduin! And it’s a double success for Jia, because she had just come out of a very serious injury back then—at her first battle in the Throat of the World, the World-Eater almost ripped her arm off. Her shoulder and collarbone broke, all her left side down to her pelvic bone was marked by huge claw marks, and on top of that, she was launched into a rock and hit her head. I think that, if not for Paarthurnax who carried her away to High Hrothgar and the Greybeards who healed her afterwards, Jia would be dead. Imagine a person, even a Dragonborn, carrying on after that, striding into Sovngarde with hope in the heart still, killing a God, and saving the world. I’m just so proud of her…😭

H. First time sharing a bed (non-sexual)

AH, it was at Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm! Jia had just come out of Ulfric’s palace, where he’d made a very tempting but ambiguous offer to her, and while she and Miraak had rented separate rooms, she couldn’t sleep alone that night, she was very nervous and restless. Nothing happened between them, except that they found comfort in each other’s arms for the first time in forever… Here’s the part from the fic:

“I don’t want to stay alone tonight.” Her confession, as if it is a stretched rope, on one side of which hangs the trust and safety, and on the other the reserve and indecision. “Can I lay down with you? Just—Just to sleep together.” She hastens to clarify when she detects Miraak’s look touched by a tint of darkness, and a breath is caught in his throat. It should be desire, she acknowledges, but it is neither profane nor carnal. No, it is the first time she sees a feeling so pure yet so ardent sculpted on a man’s face like a brand. And maybe there are indeed many things Miraak lusts to act upon now, this moment when he is almost losing his mind from all this—all this hunger. Without words necessary, they lie down on the harsh, unkempt bed that welcomes the sleepers with prickling straw for a mattress and timbers full of splinters for a bedstead. But to Jia and Miraak, this is a luxurious bed made for lords and jarls and Kings, soft and restful for the weariest travelers. Because this is a bed where they no longer lie alone and wanting, but next to each other and so during the night, their dreams may get interweaved, and their darkest secrets may get buried inside one another’s skin; if they still have any secrets left untold. 

🤝 - Favorite "first meeting" scene you've written between two characters

God will punish me for this, for I have sinned, but my favorite first meeting is… is between Jia and Caranthir… OKAY, LET ME EXPLAIN.

There’s this sinister atmosphere when these two meet; you know something very bad will happen, you know Jia is in grave danger, you know he’s like a vulture who scrutinizes its prey to destroy it, and at the same time, you can see the glint of obsession in him, his sadistic need, even his secret, twisted infatuation with her.

For a moment, he stands there, towering above her shackled, paralyzed form, his eyes glinting in gloated triumph and leering at every feature of her face. As the realization finally strikes him, a scathing grin twitches the edges of his mouth. “We Altmer, you know, have a long memory. And this head right here,” he says, slowly dragging his palm above her head, a travesty of a tender gesture, “reminds me of the one I took from the shoulders of a certain Imperial about... twenty years ago. Ah, such a troubled man he was that one. However, as he was churning in his lunacy, he kept murmuring two names—the one belonged to his Nord paramour, and the other couldn’t have appertained to anyone else than…” His hand viciously balls into a fist within her hair and whispers, “You might have poisoned the other morons, but know that I cannot be put down by the likes of you. Worry not; I have something for you, bastard. A gift—a repayment in kind, for all the things you have done and all those you might have done if I had not trapped your inexistent brain with that exposed wine cup. And I will rejoice to listen to your cries and pleadings for mercy and swift end... Elettra.”)

The fact that he knows her true name, the fact that he knows everything about her as he instantly understands she’s Remus’ daughter. He’s AWFUL but I like to think he’s a mastermind...

[nuwanders]

Some questions from the TES OC game :D

For Mathyas:

14. Any motifs or symbolism for this character? Flowers, animals, etc.

24. What do they believe is their biggest weakness? What do you say is their biggest weakness?

For Jorunn:

18. Where do they fit on the morality chart?

21. Are they: Diplomatic or Violent? Passive or Instigating? Selfish or Selfless? Law abiding or Lawless? Trusting or Apprehensive? Caring or Indifferent?

thank you so much @dirty-bosmer! <3 great questions :)

14. Any motifs or symbolism for this character? Flowers, animals, etc.

mathyas does have a motif! it features mostly in the waiting door, but has also appeared a couple of times now in king & lionheart. that motif is a spider 🕷️

there’s an obvious lore explanation here, but in irl dream symbology, spiders are meant to signify that the dreamer is being manipulated. mathyas is being manipulated by several characters in his story—astrid, vivienne, even nazir to some extent—but he is also being manipulated by the narrative itself (i.e. me). i mean how unlucky do you have to be to pick the one house in windhelm with a traumatised boy and a rotting corpse as its inhabitants while searching for a hiding spot from slavers?

mathyas doesn’t slot naturally into the canon dark brotherhood questline so i had to manipulate the story a LOT to get it to work. thankfully there’s an in-universe explanation for all of this contrivance, which is that mathyas is one of those unfortunate souls who has been noticed by mephala and turned into one of her playthings. Which i get 100%, because torturing mathyas brings me a great deal of amusement, so basically i am mephala, mephala is me.

Spider imagery features quite heavily in The Waiting Door, but it’s supposed to be ambiguous to what extent these are just ordinary spiders, or whether it’s mephala sinking her claws into mathyas when he's young. Either way, the incident with the spider in the final scene leads mathyas to develop a lifelong case of arachnophobia. Poor boy.

24. What do they believe is their biggest weakness? What do you say is their biggest weakness?

Every misstep and miscalculation that mathyas makes throughout the course of king & lionheart (both what’s been written and what’s still to come), he blames on his not being smart enough— he thinks that if he were only cleverer, he could outsmart astrid and vivienne and beat them at their own game. He also feels held back by what he writes off as his ‘moral squeamishness’, his gut feeling that something is wrong even when his mind is telling him that it’s justifiable in the name of the greater good. 

In reality, he’s got it all back to front. His downfall is caused by his overreliance on what he thinks of as logic or rationality, his refusal to see ethics as anything other than a numbers game, even when his heart and soul are screaming at him to stop. He tries to control what he can in a situation that is soooo so far removed from his control, and in doing so commits some deeds that ultimately are never justified by some happy end. 

jórunn under the cut!

18. Where do they fit on the morality chart?

I would put jórunn somewhere between true neutral and neutral good, moving further into ‘good’ territory as the story progresses. As a disabled sex worker in the imperial city, and very much a member of cyrodiil’s urban poor, jórunn grew up in a kind of dog-eat-dog world and learned from a young age to look out for herself first and foremost. The burden of being dragonborn is not one she welcomes, BUT, she does accept it, because what’s the alternative? She has nowhere to go where she can hide from her fate, no ordinary life she can run back to; those bridges have long been burned. She rises to meet her destiny if only because she feels that she must, but in doing so she discovers a more selfless side to herself 

As far as her ‘chaos’ score is concerned, jórunn remains firmly in that middle column. she doesn’t hold the law in particularly high regard, but equally she won’t go out of her way to break it for the sake of doing so.  

21. Are they: Diplomatic or Violent? Passive or Instigating? Selfish or Selfless? Law abiding or Lawless? Trusting or Apprehensive? Caring or Indifferent?

I’m going to treat this as a a no-nuance ‘this or that’ type challenge for the sake of brevity, because i could honestly write paragraphs on every one of these lmao

violent / passive / selfish / lawless / apprehensive / caring

[nighting-crow]

Modded Followers and Oc interaction Headcannons

Nebarra: "Let me guess, Redguard, you want to capture Saadia and turn her in to your kinsmen?" Sorayne: scoffs "Well treason is a serious crime, Merc. If they seek her out for justice, who am I to stop them?" Nebarra: "How typical of an Alik'r."

Nebarra: "Whatever mercy the sands of Hammerfell allowed we showed the Imperials. Yet the Alik'r deserved none." Sorayne: "Why? Because we were the only ones accustomed to the heat? It's almost like it's our homeland...oh wait. It is."

Nebarra: "Hm. Immortal, right? Did your little buddies abandon you when you were sacrificed? Did they deem you weak and pathetic for not fighting back?" Sorayne: "If you must know, I wasn't with the Alik'r at the time. I lived in a smaller settlement in High Rock on the Hammerfell border for my childhood." Pauses "Didn't really think about Alik'r until maybe a week before I was sacrificed."

Taliesin, to Crow in Windhelm: "Oh great idea bringing me here. I bet the locals will welcome me with open arms." Emrys: "Well...I have yet to be called a slur so.. this trip isn't so bad for me." Sorayne: "That's probably because you look like you know, and are actively thinking about, atleast 50 different ways to kill the local nords." Emrys: "I'm offended you think that low of me. I know atleast 100. Especially when we've experienced like...most if not all of them." Dog: "Like the tine this one got her heart ripped out by a particularly angry werewolf." Caryalind, right next to Crow: takes a few steps back "..." Caryalind: "I keep forgetting that death is just another Morndas for you three."

Xelzaz: "You know...we're lucky the Princes are too busy fighting amongst themselves to unite against us." Emrys: "oooh Summerset round two?" Turns to Sorayne and Dog "Thoughts?" Dog: "Khajiit wouldn't mind having a word or two with Mephala. Damned Webweaver." Sorayne: "Oh no thanks." Shivers, eyes distant "I don't think I could kill another best friend. Especially not when a Prince is just laughing at my thoughts." Xelzaz: "Wha-!? I beg your pardon?!"

Gabrielle: "I am surprised to see Ulfric in such a high position of power." Sorayne: "Gods, don't get me started on him." Laughs "I can hear Mera's choice words for her descendant."

Val Serano: "I've done dealing with Mora before. It's the quickest way for knowledge." Emrys: "Amen." Dog: "Hah. Tentacles doesn't even care for you anymore." Emrys: "Yes. Because some silver tounged Redguard was able to persuade me to disobey his orders for..." trying to think on how to talk about Her. "For the sake of the damned erased from history." Sorayne: "You better fucking leave Ith– the Forgotten out of this. You didn't have to listen to me." Emrys: "You broke your contract to a Prince for another. And it would be hopeless, one undying against two? It wouldn't have been worth it." Gabrielle: "wait. Another Prince." Sorayne: "I- uh" silence "...no?"

Emrys, about Disnel: "So. We've killed Changleings who were summoned by the Worm Cult. Only to be best friends with one being freed by Thalmor agents for a similar reason? Great."

Dumzbthar: "But your silent friend there...their body could hold me...their body was made for a larger soul than a mortal should have." Emrys, Gabrielle, Crow: "Me?" Dog and Sorayne, who were insulting Dumzbthar the entire time they've been there: "Well it's certainly not talking about us."

Taliesin: "Even through it's harshness, the night sky is enough to take your breath away..." Sorayne: "Yes...those were my exact thoughts as I died to frostbite the first time I was here." Nebarra: "HAH! So you do admit it's cold!" Sorayne: "Never said it wasn't. It's the fucking tundra Anka-Ra. Of course it's cold."

[skyrimbookquest]

the three ultimately decided to retire for the night. having a place to sleep without having to shell out coin for every night gave Quill-Finder a sense of euphoria.

As the sun arose, Lydia and Amelia met outside the argonian's newly acquired house, ready for their journey to Winterhold, and Winterhold College proper.

"Journey North." Quill-Finder thought to herself. she looked at each roadsign that she could find, doing her best to follow them towards winterhold until they hit a crossroad. On the post, they noticed a distinct lack of direction towards Winterhold, instead displaying a path towards Windhelm, Ivarstead, and Riften.

Quill-Finder thought to herself. "Winterhold's to the east. Riften is also east. so naturally... Riften will lead us to Winterhold." Flawless Logic.

She followed the sign to Riften, using it as her new marker.

"Uhm, Thane?" Lydia called, but Quill-Finder was too far ahead to hear.

"What's the matter?" Amelia asked.

"Windhelm is more direct..." Lydia explained.

the Vicar shrugged. "Think of it as... the scenic route."

The journey was quiet. the party took a moment to rest in Darkwater Crossing before continuing on their path. as they journeyed further, it dawned on Quill-Finder.

It was getting warmer. she hoped that she was wrong, but she grew concerned.

It wasn't long until the three stood in front of a set of gates to a city.

Quill-Finder cursed.

Lydia sighed.

Amelia couldn't help but stifle a chuckle. "Welcome to Riften, Dragonborn."

The city was.... unpleasant.

there was a seedy nature around every corner, with almost every person either eyeing the newcomers, or their purses.

wherever the argonian turned, someone was either being robbed, or cheated. and though she was afraid, they were here for the night.

the three made their way to the nearest tavern and settling at a table.

"I'll go and get us a couple rooms." Lydia declared, heading to the bar counter.

Quill-Finder sat at the table, head in hand as she poured over the party's map. she looked through the routes, and curse quietly under her breath as she followed each path with her fingers.

Amelia simply chuckled. "Find something worth discussing?"

"we took a wrong turn..."

"Mm, really, I would have never guessed." the wolf smirked.

"Look-- you could have spoken up any--"

Amelia rasied her hands disarmingly, a smile still on her face. "I'm not scolding, Dragonborn. I'm simply admiring the situation."

the argonian deflated. forehead on table, she covered her head in defeat, simply groaning in frustration.

It was about this time that Lydia came back to the two with three mugs of ale, taking a seat amongst her travel partners. she passed a mug to the other two before settling in. "I managed to get us two rooms." Lydia explained. "Amelia, you're in one, while I'll be bunking with the Dragonborn."

"Quill-Finder...." the muffled words reverberated through the table.

"Sorry?"

"just call me Quill-Finder..." the argonian repeated. "I hate titles."

Lydia nodded, raising her mug. "Noted."

"So, Quill-Finder." Amelia leaned over the table. She towered over the others normally, making leaning on the table quite the feat. "Why Winterhold?"

as though to answer her question, Quill-Finder dove into her bag before producing the orders from one of the cultist. she passed it over the table, letting the Vicar take hold.

the Vicar cocked an eyebrow under her bandages. "Dragonborn, I'm capable of many things...."

"R-right..." the argonian took the orders back, embarrassed.

"We're trying to find out more on a cult that attacked her in the middle whiterun." Lydia explained. "Only lead we have is that note, and we're hoping the college might point us in a direction."

Amelia nodded. "And then, what, vengeance? justice? a strongly worded missive telling them to knock it off?"

Quill-Finder shrugged. "Honestly, I hadn't thought that far." she shoved the note back in her bag. "to be honest, I do have some ulterior motives for making my way to the college."

"Is it books?" Amelia smirked.

"It's not just books..." Quill-Finder grumbled. "I was going to see about picking up a few spells, too..."

"Mm. So..."

"Books with purpose." Lydia finished.

"You're both assholes." the argonian shook her head, chucking.

[theoneandonlysemla]

Hello there Juliafriend <3

I would like to ask about 5 and 20 for Nevri.

And 🤩 (First big inspiration for writing (an author? a piece of media? a plot idea?)) for you.

Hi Winter! <3

Thank you so much for the asks and giving me a chance to ramble about Nevri 🤭

5. First time breaking a bone

Nevri's first broken bone was her nose. She wanted to go out hunting with her father and readied her pony, when it rose its head at the wrong moment. (Inspired by me breaking my own nose because my horse did exactly that and it hurt like hell 😅) She was around 11 back then and seeing blood coming from her nose, what she never had happen to her before, she broke into tears and feared to be disfigured now. Her father told her that she looks like real fighter with it and that cheered her up a bit. Her mother on the other hand gave her father a scolding because she had to wash out the blood out of Nevri's tunic.

Well many more hits on the nose have followed and it became quite crooked over the years 😁

20. First time they felt accepted/welcomed by another character

Being a Dunmer child in Windhelm is not easy, especially because she was the only one in her age group. The others were either to young for her or found her too young to be around them, so she was quite alone. The Nord children bullying made it quite worse and Nevri often played alone for herself and avoided the company of other children. One day, when the Nord were extra mean, Canmal found her and chased them away by threatening them with a beating. He had "borrowed" his fathers mace for that (quite difficult to hold that up with his little arms) but it worked. That was the start of their friendship and Nevri's mistrust quickly disappeared when she realised that Canmal was not at all interested in the fact that she was a Dunmer.

🤩 - First big inspiration for writing (an author? a piece of media? a plot idea?)

That's difficult. I've been making up stories for as long as I can remember. I've always had a vivid imagination, I've also read a lot, etc. When I had my first computer, I just loved typing (just wild sequences of letters) and dreamed of one day filling so many pages with real words. Looking back, I think typing is a stim for me 😅 I kept asking my dad to give me 5 words and I used them to write little stories that made absolutely no sense. At some point, I started to write down stories in which I put together little fake scenarios with random stars that I adored at the time. Then, when I was about 13 or 14, I discovered fanfiction and read so much that wasn't meant for my age. Well, did it do me any harm? (Probably yes.) After all, I somehow didn't find what I wanted to read browsing the sites and then it was a case of "then I'll just do it myself". So I started writing fanfics. I think when I was like 15 or something I created my first original work that was uhm... a ride? Hella disturbing and definitely weird kid™️ coded. Wrote more fanfics after that, mostly pancing. (Does not work for me.) But I'm rambling. I guess the essence is, that I have a very vivid mind and an obsession with typing and words and that's what is my biggest inspiration for writing :P

[skyrim-forever]

So doing the baby meme thing got me thinking. What if Ondolemar found out Theodora was pregnant with his child while they were still seeing each other in Markarth? Just woke up one morning threw up beside his bed, she goes to Whiterun to get checked and BAM lil baby Arthano making an appearance in her tummy early! Because you know he was just so excited about popping his head out. Totally ready to be the next Arena champion. What kind of drama would ensue? Would Theodora even tell Ondolemar about it, given their current roles? How would Ondolemar feel sitting in his office or pacing Understone Keep knowing that Theodora was out there carrying his child? I NEED THE GOSSIP!!

Hi friend <3 Thank you so much for this ask this is a really interesting question. Unfortunately I can't see a scenario in which they would keep the baby because there are two ways it could happen.

Earlier on before they admit their feelings, if Theodora found out she would have a ~~fantasy abortion~~ and not tell him. They aren't in a relationship, owe each other nothing so it would be an "oops!" and then she'd be super careful. As their feelings came out she would tell him and he'd be very practical about it. That was the reasonable solution to falling pregnant in this type of arrangement. No hard feelings on his end.

It would happen after they had their love confession in Windhelm (chapter 1 is out here hehe shameless plug) in which case it would be the same outcome. This time done for the fact their isn't really any other option, she's got to fight Alduin, he has his duties. As long as she has to be in Skyrim she wouldn't be able to hide it, and then once its here, what do they do?

I was inspired to write this second scenario as that will explain it better. Under cut because sad :( and long this is 1100 OOPS

Ondolemar made it a point to work now, try to get something done while he still could. His love had scarcely eaten last night and was sprung from the bed early this morning with some foul sickness, retching into what she could find. The empty barrel had been something he meant to get rid of anyways. Theodora left to go see the Alchemist in town in hopes she could provide her answer as to what was afflicting her. She suspected some sort of stomach flu and if that was the case, he would likely come down with it too. Best work now until she returns with more information. 

Once she is gone for more than an hour he begins to worry. Running through his mind are fears it could be something more serious, something contracted on the road, an internal injury as she insisted on healing herself whenever possible; the fact they both drank heavily was not helping. The woman drank to be drunk where as he consumed casually throughout the day, it felt a bit better even if in reality it was comparable. As it’s nearing hour two, she comes back to him. Abandoning his work, he walks over to her, speaking just after the dwarven doors close. 

“You were gone for longer than I anticipated, I trust she found something? Are you going to be alright?” Her hands extend and he welcomes them gladly, trying to pull her in closer but she stays standing on her own. 

“I also wasn’t expecting to be gone that long either, but the alchemist has a strong suspicion.”

“That is good, what does she think? I hope it is not Bone Break Fever, absolutely a nasty disease that is. Do you feel weak?” She smiles meekly.

“A bit but that’s not it.” Noticeably her eyes fall to the floor. “I won’t know for certain until I speak with the healer, Danica Pure-Spring at the Temple in Whiterun but…” All the way to Whiterun what could possibly require such a trip? Any ideas as to what could be that serious are interrupted with the reveal. “I may be pregnant.” Oh. “And if I am then I will also take care of that at the Temple as well.” 

Ondolemar did not mean to be silent for so long, regretting that he retreated inward to grapple with this information rather than immediately comfort her. Regretting even more now that she apologizes.

“I’m sorry, normally I’m very good about-” He remedies the silence by bringing her to his chest, no resistance from her as she falls against him. Hand rubbing her back and the other smoothing her hair, he speaks. 

“No no, you have nothing to be sorry for, famously it cannot be done alone.” A weak attempt at humour but she does laugh, before the sobbing begins; anguished like he’s never heard her before. Hoping to never hear it again. Knowing there's nothing he can say at this moment, the intensity can not be healed with words, demanding to be felt, that is what he does. Let her cry against him until she can muster the words, chastising herself in anger now.

“Fuck, why am I crying? I’ve never considered having children before so why does it matter? Why do I feel so…” The question ends abruptly with another wail. 

He had thought of having a family someday, long ago  when he was much younger. The plan had been to throw himself into work, advance the family’s standing, then and only then would he let his mother work with the matchmaker and get on with the decades long progress to get married as an Altmer. But there was always more work to do, longer hours, more travel. Before he knew it the decades slipped by, casual relationships here and there but never entering into the formal process of courtship. Mostly with other agents, they were who he was around the most and thus were deeply familiar with the strict schedules under the Dominion. Seeing his sister wed had made him content, she found a nice, respectable man from a scholarly family in Skywatch. There were times he tried to rationalize with himself it was for the best. Whether or not he enjoyed it aside, he was a soldier first and foremost, the nature of a soldier is to be sent far from home. No point in having a family if he would not be able to see them, nor would he ask her to keep it as she was making the logical choice. There is her fated battle on the horizon, the matter of his position, as well as the purges conducted where there was higher density of mixed man-mer ancestry. What would he ask her, doom yourself to a life of hiding and single motherhood as he cannot follow because he loves her? Because sometimes he did imagine leaving his post, finding some way to flee from the Thalmor’s gasp and shed that which he cannot entirely believe. Tempted to do it even as he wished they lived in a better world and is curious if she has had similar thoughts. 

His thumbs gently wipe away her tears, as best he can, while cradling her face. 

“It is a serious situation, Theodora. You’re having a normal reaction regardless, let alone under our circumstances.” She nods and he places a kiss on her forehead, before gauging the situation.

“Do you want to keep it?”

“It’s not a matter of if either of us wants to, we can’t. Even if I could hide it the whole time, fight Alduin and manage to survive despite being who knows how pregnant,” A pained sigh as she is blunt with him on something which he knows to be true. “And unless it comes out looking identical to me, I’ll only be able to lie so much. Questions would be asked, Ondolemar. Nevermind if I tried to bring them around you in any capacity, how soon would it take someone to put things together, how fast would the hammer slam down on you?” Gods, she is right but that doesn’t stop the sting.

“I know, I know.” Leaning down for another kiss on her forehead, hands instead wrapping around her torso in a loose grip as she rests her head tilting upwards, clear view of the redness sin her eyes and the change in her skin tone. Red and puffing from the mental ache.

“If I were to have children though I’d want you to be their father.”

“They could have no one better as a mother than you.”

“I love you, Ondolemar.”

“And I love you, Theodora.”

[thievesguildbest]

On the Road to Sovngarde

Chapter One | A Blizzard on the Horizon | Part One

"I hate this gods-forsaken city," Rivers mutters as she pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She's an Argonian, skinny for her age, and an apprentice at the College of Winterhold. "Remind me again why we're going to Windhelm.” Duncan flashes her a winning smile. They've been on the road for nearly two days, and he can feel a blizzard brewing. While the cold doesn't mean much to him as a Nord, Rivers isn't built for it. Even traveling through the snowier holds was difficult for her. Duncan doesn't want to know what a full-force snowstorm would do. "Because I, for one, would rather spend the next few nights in a warm tavern with warm food and warm mead," he says. He's tall, even for a Nord, broad, and built like a fortress. His voice booms in the evening stillness. "But you're welcome to try and pitch camp in the middle of a blizzard." Rivers playfully smacks his arm between the gaps in the steel. "How are you so sure there's going to be a blizzard?" Duncan shrugs. "The Bearshield's can always tell when a blizzard is coming on. My Da used to be able to smell it." “Xuth,” Rivers scoffs. "You can't smell a blizzard." "Well, Da could. He's a bit too old for it now, though. Lost his sense of smell a while ago." Rivers shakes her head. "Yes, well, don't go letting your Da hear you call him old." "Aye." Duncan throws his head back and laughs. "I would rather fight a hundred sabrecats barehanded." Soon, the city gates stand before them. Duncan sees Rivers' shoulders tense out of reflex. He sighs. Skyrim isn't too kind to Argonians in general, but Windhelm is worse. Prejudice and narrow-mindedness make the city a bad place to be for anyone who isn't a Nord. He just hopes that Rolf isn't out "patrolling" the Gray Quarter right now. The last thing Rivers needs is to bump into him. "It'll be fine," Duncan says to her as they approach the gates. "It's not like we have to stay in the Candlehearth." While Duncan and his family are from Eastmarch to begin with, his parents recently purchased a house inside the city. Ma was getting too old to worry about bandit raids, and Da was tired of fending off wolves while he worked the fields. They bought Friga Shatter-Shield's old place, Hjerim, and finally retired. They're good people. Good parents. Duncan just hopes he and Rivers won't be too much of a hassle for a night or two. "And how will your family take having an Argonian in their home?" Rivers asks. She sounds nonchalant, but Duncan can hear the stress behind her words. He shrugs again. "Eh. They'll be fine. Ma did always say she never cared who I brought home, as long as they ate well and could hold their mead." "Fair enough," Rivers says with a chuckle. "I guess I won't have any trouble, then." Duncan smiles at her. "No, just remember to behave. I don't want a brawl breaking out in my family home." "No promises." Rivers gives him a look. "Just worry about yourself, Bearshield."

Little something somethin I'm working on for some writing practice. I present to you, Duncan Bearshield. Pure of Heart. Dumb of Ass.